Waiting
by Childish Sadism
Summary: One was trying to show that he was a hero, while the other one already was one. But how can the two heroes find each other, if both of them are waiting. UK/US. Surprisingly enough it has nothing dirty in it.


So! I promised **chiisana00** (LJ buddy) that if she did her homework instead of procrastinating I was going to write a UK/US fic for her. She likes fluff, I'm horrible at writing it and so this was written. 8| I TRIED!

* * *

England fell in love with a child. No. He fell in love with a young, fresh country. It was something unexpected that he never thought it would be possible, not after being so cautious for so many years. Relationships in between countries were now frowned upon and could be extremely inconvenient. Their bosses could destroy the relationship if so they wished and could make them hate each other, after all the wishes of their people were their first priority.

Yet, England was unable to prevent his feelings from happening.

It had been a joke at first, a mere matter to laugh about. France would mock him for spending so much time with a young nation like America and England in return would sneer at him and remind him how he just wanted to do a good job, unlike France.

It took England a good portion of his sanity to finally realize that he was in love with the child. America felt like a home far away from home; a place where he could go and relax, where he could just be himself, where he could be Arthur and play with Alfred. It was the complete opposite of Europe. He loved his country, he truly did, and there was no doubt about that. Now, however, he loved America just as much.

England was afraid. He was afraid of hurting the younger nation, he was afraid of not taking good care of him, and most of all he was afraid of his own feelings. Destruction and death came with his country, just like any other old country. He didn't want to bring that to America, he couldn't bring himself to do so.

The idea of becoming like his older siblings also tormented him, so because of this he would try to spoil the boy as much as he could. At least, he would try since his duties would keep him from visiting too often. It had become like an obsession to make the boy happy, maybe because in return in would bring happiness to him as well.

It slowly turned into an obsession.

But things changed one night.

The obsession was growing but England couldn't bring himself to fully believe that he was in love with a young nation like America, mostly because it was disturbing. He was not France, he just couldn't possibly consider trying something with America. No, his feelings were going to stay a secret, nothing was ever going to change in between them, because England was afraid, he was terrified of change when it came to America. One miss-step and he could fall, he could fall and never reach the other again.

Arthur met her when he was trying to find a decent place to drink. They had a small conversation and then the pretty lady took him to the nearest pub. They kept talking, although the two already knew what they wanted from each other. The night was young when they left the pub, like it was expected they ended up in England's house. Nothing out of the ordinary. Clothes were taken off, tossed away without care. The ecstasy of the moment was burnt down with their actions.

They enjoyed the moment.

England forgot about his obsession, at least until they were done. Until there was a knock on the door and a young boy peeked through the door.

"England?" America whispered softly as he tried to see through the darkness.

The older nation was so lucky that they were done and America didn't have to see what just happened. He reached for the oil lamp and lit it up, his eyes adjusting to the light for a couple of seconds.

"What is it? Couldn't sleep?" England chuckled, rolling to his side to see the head poking out from behind the door.

The boy nodded his head weakly and took a step inside the room, a small smile forming on his lips.

Arthur smiled back and then watched in horror as the smile slowly turned into a frown, the blue eyes widening as an arm sneaked around Arthur's chest and another body hugged him from behind. Alfred looked scared? Disappointed maybe, it was something Arthur still couldn't truly describe. Yet, he knew what that face meant, he knew it very well. He screwed up.

The woman he just had relations with had woken up and covered herself with the blankets, her body leaning against Arthur's as she glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, hello there." She said to America with a genuine sweet voice.

'Get out. Get out, now.' Arthur wanted to say it out loud but couldn't. Instead he watched as his partner for the night put on a night robe and walked over to America. She was sweet. She talked to him and even made him smile but it wasn't the same. England knew it, whenever Alfred would glance at him, the same look was still in his eyes.

Alfred never asked to sleep in his bed again.

Because of his obsession, England became possessive. It wasn't just about making America happy anymore, it was about keeping him for himself.

England's fears became true. He was hurting America, his own selfishness was hurting the boy. He was becoming like his siblings. It was a nightmare that was slowly turning into reality, so Arthur did the only thing he could do. He let himself be woken up. England let America go.

The frustration and pain that came with that broke his heart, time and time again. It made him want to tear open his chest and throw away his feelings. It had been his entire fault and now, now America wouldn't even look at him. There was an ocean in between them and he couldn't see him anymore. It would have been easy to make a trip just to see him, but his fear of hurting him turned into a phobia. He needed to keep his distance, and so he did.

America grew and England kept living for his empire. It all became about power, not just land. It was a need he had to fill, and although he was trying to do everything in his power to feel better…nothing was truly working.

War broke again, this time bigger and this time America was there to back him up. England declined his help. He pushed him back. Arthur didn't need his help, he didn't want it but his people did and so his people let Americas people help.

England was somewhat glad though. He just wouldn't dare to mention it. He let America play the Hero, he let him believe he was the savior. If it made him happy, then England would let America believe whatever he wanted to believe.

"I'm the hero, you'll see! I'll fix everything."

Those were the words England would hear all the time. He would scowl at his former colony but then he would smile in his head, never letting America see.

Peace can never last. It is almost impossible for peace to last when humanity is against it, even if their own nations are begging them to stop…they won't.

'America…don't you want to play hero again?' England thought during the second war. America did it again. He played his role of the 'hero' or so he would keep telling everyone. Arthur turned a blind eye towards him and England ignored how the other almost left him to die, how he almost he didn't help him in time. It was okay, everything was fine. Even if England had been at the edge of breaking, even if he was about to fall on his knees, in the end America played the role of the hero and he was happy. He was smiling and was glowing. It was perfect.

America was at the top after the war. He was the rising star and England faded away.

But it was alright, because it was everything Arthur ever wanted.

Time passed again, America was the one fighting this time and England was the one standing behind him. It had come something so common to see Alfred's back. Never his eyes, never his lips and never his face. Alfred would never turn around and England would never reach for his shoulder to force him to look at him.

Things were fine. It was perfect.

England turned around, and walked away, leaving behind the golden boy.

* * *

Peace was such an odd thing, or maybe it was just weird for people that were so used to living through conflicts and wars. Dark feelings were now buried deep inside, kept there under lock and key, and although some people still wanted to fight, it wasn't as bad as it used to be.

It would sometimes bother England, how he could comfortably sit outside his house and stare at his garden, pondering what needed to be fixed. Then he would go inside his house, change into some baggy, old jeans and a regular T-shirt before walking outside with his gardening gloves already on.

The sandy blond stared down at the weeds on his garden, his eyes narrowing dangerously before he knelt down on the ground. He yanked on the weeds, using a small shovel once in a while to remove the roots. Well, at least some rotten animal was not attacking his garden, all of these small little things were easier to fix.

England had been too busy trying to yank some of the weeds with the roots and all that he didn't notice the knocking on his door. He didn't notice when a sunny blond glared at the blockade, and he didn't notice when said blond yanked the knob off and let himself in. The poor nation didn't notice all of this until he felt thirsty and the need of water slowly grew bigger until it turned into the need of some tea and so he went back inside the house.

The Brit filled his electric kettle with water and then placed it on top of the small heating surface. Once that was done, he flipped the switch on, his attention now on the many different tea boxes in front of him. At least, the tea had his attention until he heard some noises coming from the living room.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, his hand slowly reaching for one of the long kitchen knives. Cautiously, he moved from the kitchen to the living room, noticing how his door was half open. If the thief was not armed then chances were that he could throw the knife at him and maybe land it on his sides and not kill him. But if the bastard was touching any of his antiques, then he was a fucking goner!

England felt the urge to smack his head against the wall when he noticed it was just America, messing around with his TV and yanking on the cables of the plasma. No matter, with a glare the older nation grabbed the knife by the blade and then threw it towards the other so it landed right next to his face on the wall in front of him. Arthur watched in amusement as Alfred froze up in place and slowly turned around to look at him.

"D-dude, you didn't have to do that." America shivered, slowly moving away from the embedded knife.

"Well, 'dude', you left my door open and came in without telling me!" Arthur rolled his eyes, and turned around, walking back inside the kitchen. He picked up a vanilla afternoon tea, along with one of his favorite cups. "You deserved that." The Brit mumbled to himself.

"I knocked! And I rang your doorbell like a hundred times, but you wouldn't answer. I couldn't just sit outside and wait for you." Alfred yelled from the other room. He was still working on the TV and by the looks of it he was trying to plug in one of his gaming systems.

Arthur tsked, his eyes narrowing as he poured his cup. "Yes, you could have. I thought you were a thief, I was ready to stab you." By the time Arthur was done making his tea, Alfred was already done messing with the TV, so the only thing that was left to take care of was the blasted door. The Brit dragged a chair from the kitchen and slammed it against the door, placing it against it so that the door wouldn't open from the outside.

"You better fix that before it gets too late." Arthur hissed at the American as he sat on his couch next to Alfred, cup in hand.

"I will, I will. I'm a handy man when I care to be." Not right now though, because Alfred's eyes were now glued to the TV and the game menu.

"If you say so." Arthur took a gentle sip of his tea and glanced at the TV. From the looks of it, it was just another war game America enjoyed playing, which was kind of amusing because he had lived through all of those wars.

Never did England expect for Alfred to take off his glasses and begin talking when the game started though. He figured it was going to be like always. America was going to come over, spend some time with him, go to bed. Rinse and repeat. It had been like this for years…It would make Arthur feel like if he was in some kind of old relative the American was forcing himself to see every season for the sake of being polite. England just wouldn't mention it. There was no point.

England's idle thoughts were interrupted by the American.

"I have always known." Alfred said quietly. It was so out of character for him to sound so serious, so secure. The younger nation didn't look away from the TV. "How you always let me play hero when I wasn't one. How you never wanted my help, but let me help you in order to feel like a hero."

England didn't say one word; instead he took a sip of his tea, his eyes staring at the blue cup.

"I've been wanting to talk about this for a long time but I would always get cold feet." America moved his fingers over the controller, the noises of the TV now sounding so far away. "I always hoped that you would bring it up if I pushed you enough. If I bothered you enough, or if I angered you enough, but you never did."

"Why should I?"Arthur set his cup down, his eyes staring at the game the American was playing even though it didn't have his full attention.

"You are right, you shouldn't have." The grip on the controller tightened, and Alfred rubbed his lips together. "I also know, that you are never going to start this conversation, so I'm going to be a hero and do it for you." There was a low chuckle and the room suddenly felt too small. "It took me years to figure you out. You kept hiding things from me, acting like you didn't want me around and like you thought I was an ungrateful brat."

The American kept his fingers moving, his vision on the TV. He couldn't look at England, if he did maybe he would stop talking. He planned this for weeks, it was going to work. He was going to make it work. "You let me play hero since I was little, telling me that I was saving you from Europe. Back then I figured you were talking about how my country was helping you, but that wasn't it. You were talking about how I…myself was making you feel better. Why didn't you just say so?"

Arthur leaned back against the couch, his eyes closed. He tilted his head back against the couch, dropping one of his arms over his eyes to block any type of light sources.

"That's so you." Alfred sighed softly, his hold on the controller weakening. "During the revolution…I thought the real reason why you were letting me go was because I was hurting you more than I was helping you. It made me feel…guilty, I felt guilty for so many years. For my people, it was something great but for me, after seeing you like that... I mean, I don't regret gaining my freedom, I don't at all, but it cost me the only person I ever cared for." The younger man glanced over to the older nation, a frown slowly spreading across his lips. Arthur wasn't saying anything.

"Then..." Alfred kept going, gathering all the courage that he could muster. The silence in the room was not being broken by the game and him anymore, just him. He was talking through this alone. "Then during all of those fights, you kept pushing me away, even though your people didn't want you to. Even during the first war, you kept saying that you didn't need the help of a brat like me, yet you let your people ask for my help. You didn't stop them…it wasn't your pride was it? You just wanted to make me feel special…A hero like I always wanted, and I fell for it." The words sounded dry in his throat and Alfred turned his eyes back on the television despite not watching what was going on, instead his attention turned more onto Arthur's abandoned tea cup.

"You kept doing it, growing in debt with me, making me wait for the perfect moment. Even during the second war, I waited for you to ask for help, just you…but you never did it. You looked so weak, and you were ready to fall. I wanted you to crawl, I wanted you to beg for help, to ask for a hero and you…you never did. You kept your chin up, staring at what was happening without fear. It angered me, you don't know how angry I was." The American laughed softly, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder, the controlling was now shaking but he was blaming the game. It was getting harder; the game was just getting harder.

"I declined helping your people even though I really wanted to help. Japan's attack allowed me to have the perfect excuse. I came into the game and saved you, didn't I? I destroyed Japan for you. I crushed people, humiliated them and broke their pride, just for you to see…to just look at me again. Truly look at me. To see how strong I was, to see how I was being a hero." Alfred shifted on his seat, sitting in an Indian style this time, his attention on the game weakening and the urge to glance at the older male was slowly growing.

"You let me believe in lies, because you wanted me to be hap-"

"Why are you talking about this?" Arthur finally interrupted, his body turning to the side to stare at the younger male. "Just why? Because you figured it out? Who cares? What makes you think I care if you know the truth or not? Does it change anything?" The Brit hissed out, narrowing his eyes. 'Look at me!' He yelled in his head but the boy kept staring at the TV alone now.

"Because you are never going to talk about it!" Alfred growled softly, his hold on his controller tightening again. "Because you are stupid like that! You act all tough and indifferent and never tell me anything that's going on! You are a big liar! You act all uncaring, but you keep trying to protect me! What exactly are you protecting me from? You?"

"Yes!" Arthur yelled out, not realizing how rough his voice sounded. It was sore and tired, years of exhaustion showing through his voice.

Alfred opened his mouth to say something and closed it again. The TV was reading game over. The sunny blond kept his eyes fixed on the controller. "Why didn't you say it before. This means I've been doing everything wrong."

"What the hell are you talking about?" England growled softly, rubbing one of his hands over his face. This was the reason why he avoided talking about this subject. It was far too stressful to handle in one day. Most importantly, he did not want to deal with a situation like this. It wouldn't help them, it wouldn't change anything. It was far too late, and England had kept his distance. It worked. He never hurt him, he never brought him down into the dark hole other people forced him to live through.

America finally turned his head, his blue eyes glancing over at the older nation. A weak smile slowly spread across his lips. "I-I thought you were afraid of getting hurt. So I was playing the hero so you would see that I couldn't hurt you." The small smile grew wider and he closed his eyes.

Silence filled the room. The noises coming from the TV were noticeable now. The people walking down the street were far too loud and the children playing nearby felt like they were screaming next to them.

"I fell in love with an old country..." Alfred broke the silence once again. Both of his shoulders sunk as he dropped the controller on top of the coffee table. "He took care of me, but he looked like he was afraid of me. One night I found out that he couldn't ever return my feelings, and so I tried to let go of him but…I couldn't."

"Years later, I realized that I was still chasing after him... So I decided to show him that I couldn't harm him, and that I could help him." The younger nation pulled his legs close to his chest, burying his face against his knees. "In the end, he was the one trying to be a hero for many years, I just didn't realize it until now."

The American swallowed heavily, feeling how his stomach was slowly sinking and almost reaching his knees. It was impossible for him to explain the other how much he tried to show him that he couldn't harm him, because all of these years he kept thinking that Arthur was the one that was afraid of getting hurt. It was not him, it was Arthur that had always tried to protect him, accepting his nation's help but not his. It was confusing and ironic. The hero was saved.

Alfred's eyes widened and he blinked a couple of times when he was pulled over. He stared at Arthur's shirt, as one arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him closer until he was in a tight embrace. Faintly...Finally, he felt a small shred of hope as he peeked at the older male with a somewhat broken smile.

Arthur huffed softly, his eyes still staring at the TV. "You are such a bimbo." He muttered softly but then chuckled, his eyes closing as he leaned his head against his own shoulder, eyes showing more life than they had in hundreds of years as he looked at Alfred. "I was hoping you wouldn't be smart enough to notice all of this, but you had to come over here and show me that fooling you was not going to last forever. You are so stupid."

The Brit sighed softly, his eyes opening to stare down at the blue eyed boy. The pressure that had been resting on his shoulders was slowly disappearing, as if it had never been there. Tricking the American had been one of the few things that he regretted ever doing but it had been based on good reasoning. He was afraid, afraid of who he was, and most of all afraid of what he could do, but now…now everything was different. It was not the same. America was the world power, he was the one on top and England, well, he was happy. Putting asides politics and the economy he was happy. Life was now peaceful, he was able to enjoy things that he couldn't before. Before, he didn't even have the time to stare at the sky and now he would stare at the clouds and the blue sky for hours, as if he never noticed them before. It was hard to notice small things when a sea of blood was running by your feet, and it forced you to stare at it, to notice the destruction that was going on around you. Everything that was beautiful was always clouded by the horrible actions that would happen around him.

Sometimes England would wake up during the night, thinking about all the things he had seen. All the people he murdered and all the people his people destroyed. All the destruction he caused and forced upon the world for his own desires. It was hard to sleep at night when thinking of past events like that. It was then that he would call America, and the younger nation wouldn't ask questions, instead he would chat with him until exhaustion took over his body again and he fell asleep, sometimes without hanging up and America would keep talking, until he could no longer hear his voice.

"So dumb." Arthur said softly and ran his fingers through the sunny blond hair. He leaned down then, his lips brushing against Alfred's in a gentle way before he grabbed the back of his neck to pull the younger male closer. The Brit crushed his lips against the others, his tongue quickly slipping out and rubbing against the soft lips in front of him. He sucked and bit on the bottom lip, gently taking it in his mouth to suck on it before biting it again and pulling back. Arthur growled softly and kissed Alfred again, this time holding on his face with both of his hands, pulling him closer until the other was pressing against his own body. As he pulled the boy closer,his arms moved to wrap around his waist, his hold possessive.

Alfred tilted his head back once he need to breath grew far too big. He gasped loudly and closed his eyes, looking a bit dazed at first, soon a grin was spreading across his lips and he hugged the older male, giving him a quick kiss on the lips before pulling back. The younger male reached for his bag, ignoring the grunt he got in return for moving. He smirked in return, pulling out a rose in a plastic container. The American pulled out the rose, waving it a bit as he offered the flower to the older male.

England just stared at the rose, blinking a couple of times before laughing and shaking his head. "I'm romantic, but not corny!"

America huffed, a frown forming on his lips. "Hey! I was thinking about giving it to you as I confessed, but I just couldn't." With a mumble he glanced away, the hand holding the rose slowly lowering.

Arthur smirked, holding on the hand and taking the rose. "Mm, I'm not a girl, and I'm sure you know that." He gently brushed the rose against the younger mans slightly tan face, moving the petals from his cheeks to his lips. "But you do kiss like one."

Before the American could open his mouth to say something in return the Brit was leaning in, kissing him again and devouring his lips. Faintly, Alfred felt the rose carefully brush against his neck as a hand tugged his shirt to pull it over his chest.

"How many times can you do it without a rest?" Arthur asked, a smirk slowly spreading on his lips.

Alfred twitched at the question, glaring at the pervert for a question like that. "I don't know!" He hissed out.

"Well, then I'm going to double that tonight."

England sounded far too smug, causing the other to want to reach for him and smack him but instead he wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him, both of his hands running through the soft sandy hair.

"If you can beat me in my game!"

"Never mind, I'll just drink tea."

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Reviews amuse me.


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